


Whitechapel Whirlwind

by HeyGoodLookin



Category: Oliver Twist (1999), Oliver Twist - All Media Types, Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens, Oliver! - Bart
Genre: Fluff, get ready for feelings, holy moly, this is a starved fandom, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyGoodLookin/pseuds/HeyGoodLookin
Summary: The infamous Artful Dodger finds himself helping a stubborn young girl who makes him believe in happily ever after.





	1. One.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey!   
> So yes, you read correctly, this is an Artful Dodger/OC fanfic taking place around the time of Oliver Twist. Nancy is alive and well.   
> I've given the dialogue my best shot, but I don't think it is truly Dickensian. Apologies there.   
> Please enjoy and comment!! I'd love to continue this story :)

It was close to eight in the morning when the Artful Dodger found himself eating a pastry he had stolen while sauntering down one of the many bustling streets in London. He’d had a good day pick-pocketing the day before so the days work was not particularly urgent. He had his eye on a silver pocket watch when he stumbled forward.

“What the blazes—“ he whipped around to see what he had tripped over and was surprised to see a young girl crouched against a wall. It was well into October, but the girl didn’t seem to be wearing a jacket. She had her legs tucked against her chest and her face buried beneath her arms. Her hair, which was braided into two braids, was a striking shade of golden blonde despite the sooty air. “Oi!” Dodger exclaimed, hoping to attract the girl’s attention. Instead, it seemed to prompt her to hide further in herself. “What’s your name, girl?” He crouched down to her level and noticed her shivering. Instantly, he felt compelled to take his own coat off and wrap it around the girl. She was so small, her frame so slight, it concerned him. The second his coat touched the girl’s body, she pressed herself as close to the wall as she could.

“S—stop,” the girl’s voice shook as she raised her head. Dodger swallowed thickly at the sight. Hallow cheeks, red eyes; he knew the look of hunger and exhaustion all too well.

“I in’t going to hurt yer,” Dodger said softly. “Just let me help.” He pulled his coat around her gently and frowned when he noticed her ill-fitting dress. Perhaps it had fit her at one time, but days, perhaps weeks of hunger had caused the fabric to hang off her. The lace trim of her dress was filthy, but the cotton; the cotton of the dress gave him pause. It wasn’t factory made or from a workhouse. It was light blue with small white flowers on it to match what was once white lace trim.

“Thank you,” the girl managed weakly.

Dodger took a moment to look into the girl’s eyes. Blue, to match her dress. She was, despite the grime and malnourishment, a striking girl. “You got any lodgings?”

“What?”

“Lodgings,” Dodger repeated.

“I don’t know what…” the girls’ voice trailed off in embarrassment. It was at that point that Dodger noticed her voice. She spoke differently. He’d never heard anything like it before.

“You’re not from these parts are ye?”

“I’ve been here for three weeks.”

“Three weeks!” Dodger exclaimed. “What, all by yourself?” The girl didn’t reply. She merely buried her head back in her arms. “Hey,” Dodger put a soft hand on her knee. “I in’t going to hurt yer and I in’t going to peach on yer. Where you from, then?”

“Oregon,” the girl whispered into her arms.

“Never ‘eard of it. Outside of London, then?”

“America.”

“ _America_? Blimey,” Dodger was stunned. “Yer got a place to sleep?” The girl shook her head. “Food?” The girl shook her head again, though weaker this time. Her embarrassment was clear to Dodger. “Listen, there in’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. Everybody falls on hard times. I know a place when yer can sleep and eat.”

“I can’t,” the girl raised her head again and blinked. “I won’t take charity.”

“When was the last time you ate somethin’?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“What’s your name, girl?” Dodger couldn’t help but crack a small smile at her stubbornness.

“Sarah,” the girl replied.

“Well then Miss. Sarah, I’m sure yer can look after yourself, but when yer sittin’ on the outskirts of Whitechapel and haven’t eaten for days, it’s time to put pride aside.”

Sarah met the boy’s eyes briefly. He seemed, unlike so many other’s she’d encountered, kind. “I haven’t got any money.”

“Not to worry, Sarah, you’re with me now. I’ll take yer to a safe place. Get yer fed and looked after. Warm yourself by a fire and sleep.”

“I don’t—“

“I won’t hear anything of it, Miss Sarah. Come with me,” Dodger extended his hand. “I’m the artful Dodger by the way. But yer can call me Dodger or Dodge.”

“Dodger?” Sarah took his hand slowly and stood up.

“Steady on there, Sarah love,” Dodger noticed her uneasy swaying and put a hand on her back to steady her. “They call me Dodger on account of me knack for nickin’.”

“I’m alright,” Sarah tried to walk out of the boy’s touch.

“Take my hand,” Dodger said firmly.

“What?” Sarah backed away slightly.

“Take my hand.”

“I hardly think—“

“You take my hand,” the boy reached forward and grasped her hand in his own. “And you don’t look at anyone, you here? You keep your eyes on me or your feet.”

“Why?” Sarah’s face paled in fear.

“Because,” Dodger adjusted the hat on his head. “You’re a pretty blonde thing and Whitechapel is a dangerous place if you don’t have your wits about yer. And yer about as green as they come.”

“Green?”

“Naive,” Dodger translated. “So unless you want to be swept off your feet by a mad man looking for a good time, I’d suggest you hold my hand and play the part of my girl.”

“I’m nobody’s girl!” Sarah tried to escape Dodger’s grasp.

“Listen here princess,” Dodger whipped around and put a firm hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “I’m known ‘round these parts. You want to stay safe, you stick by me. In’t nobody going to hurt the artful Dodger’s girl.”

“I don’t see what—ow!” Sarah flinched as Dodger gripped her shoulder more firmly.

“Sorry!” Dodger took his hand back quickly. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Sarah replied quickly.

“You’re stubborn and you’re a terrible liar.”

“Please…” Sarah hesitated. “I really am fine. Just tired.”

“Let me take yer somewhere safe. You’ll get a bed and food,” Dodger said, his voice returning to it’s former softness. There was something about this girl that touched him. When Sarah nodded weakly, he grasped her hand tightly and began to walk. “Yer alright to walk?”

“Yes,” said Sarah.

“Eyes on me, alright? I mean that.”

“Alright.”

“I’ve got yer, don’t worry. Just follow me,” Dodger cast worried glances at the girl as they weaved through the crowds. As the streets became narrower, Dodger felt Sarah’s grip on his hand tighten. “I’ve got yer,” he repeated gently. He saw the way some of the men on the streets were looking at her and it made him sick. Yes, he knew all too well what a commodityan innocent girl like Sarah was. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb when he felt her shiver. “Almost there,” he pressed her closer to his body so their shoulders were touching.

Sarah felt a hand on her other arms and flinched. A filthy man was greying hair leered at her as his grip tightened. “Let go!” she cried, pulling her arm back as best she could. Weeks of hunger had rendered her hopelessly weak.

“Oi!” Dodger kicked the man back against the wall. “Get yer filthy hands off of my girl!” The man looked up and the boy and backed away quickly. Dodger kept his eyes on the man until he disappeared down another alleyway. “See what I mean?” Dodger looked down at Sarah to see her head bowed. “He hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” Sarah voice quivered.

Dodger wanted to argue, but Sarah’s increasing fear and shaking kept him on task. He had to get her to safety. She’d surly die in Whitechapel on her own. “I promise yer, we’re nearly there.”

Sarah merely nodded as she continued following Dodger down narrower and narrower streets. Though, she now didn’t mind his body so close to her own. She felt close to collapsing when she heard Dodger shout something at a door. She couldn’t remember walking up stairs and she hardly registered the door opening. All she could think about was the fact that her new surroundings were warm and smelled of bacon.

“Here we are,” Dodger lead her to a kind of sofa. “Cuppa?” He held up a mug.

Sarah assumed he meant a drink and, so she nodded. “It’s just tea,” Dodger smiled. “An looks like Fagin left some sausages.” He handed Sarah a cup of tea before putting two sausages and a bun on a plate for her.

“Is this—“ Sarah took a sip of tea and sighed. Peppermint. Her favourite. “Do you live here alone?”

“Hardly,” Dodger sat down beside her and held her plate while she sipped her tea. “This here’s Fagin’s hide out. Charley an’ me, we’re the oldest. I’m Fagin’s right ‘and man, though. I’m his best worker.”

Sarah hardly approved of the kind of _work_ she assumed Dodger did, but she saw kindness in his eyes and nodded. “How many of you are there?”

“Nine of us boys at the moment,” Dodger replied swiftly. “I got me own loft though, bein’ the oldest an all,” he pointed up at the loft space by a window. There was a small bed and table with a small trunk beside it. “Here,” he took the empty tea cup from Sarah and handed her the plate of food.

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, Sarah. Tuck in and then you rest a spell, alright?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Sarah couldn’t help but speak between bites of sausage.

“No bother,” Dodger smiled. “Glad to see a bit o’ colour in yer cheeks again.”

Sarah felt herself flush at this. “Are there no girls who stay here?”

“No,” Dodger said carefully. He didn’t want to scare her. “There’s Nancy and Bet, but they never stay. They work… elsewhere.”

“Oh,” Sarah replied, unsure of what to make of Dodger’s words.

“I’ll have Nance stop by later,” Dodger said while watching Sarah finish her plate. “Would you like more?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Sarah said. Her polite nature once again gave Dodger pause. She wasn’t from a part of the world like Whitechapel. She was born and raised with manners and propriety. There was something about that fact, that made Dodger want to protect her even more.

“Can you get up?”

“I think so,” Sarah made to stand, but lost her footing. Dodger put an arm around her back.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Sarah couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“Put your arm around me,” Dodger helped her swing her arm around his neck. “That’s it.”

Sarah let out a small squeak as he lifted her into his arms. She must have fallen asleep, because the last thing she remembered was being lowered onto a bed.

Dodger sat beside his bed and watched her sleep. “You rest now, Sarah. You’re safe. I in’t going anywhere.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how I deal with my raging insomnia.

TWO

 

 

By the time Sarah opened her eyes, it was well into dinner time.

“‘ello there Sarah,” Dodger smiled down at the girl. She blinked a few times and took in her surroundings.

“How long have I been asleep?” Sarah’s voice was small as she noted a quilt had been draped over her form.

“A few hours to be sure,” Dodger replied. “Don’t yer worry, I’ve been mindin’ yer the whole time.”

“I should be going,” Sarah made to get up but her body groaned in protest.

“Not bloody likely,” said Dodger firmly. “You’re hardly in shape to be goin’ anywhere. You hungry?”

“I don’t want to be an imposition.”

“You in’t,” Dodger found himself smiling at the girl’s stubbornness again. “Let me get you a plate of somethin’.”

“Dodger, please,” Sarah swung her legs slowly out of the bed. “If I’m to eat your food, I will at least have the curtesy to eat at the table with everyone else.”

“You really are stubborn, aren’t ye?”

“To a fault,” Sarah smiled playfully.

“‘Ere,” Dodger held out his hand. “At least let me help ye down.”

 

The were several boys crowded around a single table, all chatting excitedly, while an older girl filled the boys’ plates with food that an older man was preparing over the fire. Sarah didn’t know where to look first and as if reading her mind, Dodger put a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Oi! You lot!” he cried over the racket. “This ‘ere’s Miss Sarah.”

“Sarah eh?” an older boy looked up and down. “Well aren’t you a nice bit o’ crumpet n’ all.”

“You shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for a good time to come,” Dodger glared at the boy.

“Sorry to offend yer Miss Sarah,” the boy smirked. “In’t that often we see a pretty girl such as you ‘round ‘ere.”

“That’s Charley,” Dodger explained to Sarah in a soft voice. “He’s me right hand man. Good man, jus’ a little… rough ‘round the edges if you will.”

“I take no offence, Charley,” Sarah smiled at Dodger before extended her hand to Charley. The boy grasped it firmly and shook.

“The girl’s got a good hand shake,” Charley leaned back in his chair. “Where you find her, Dodge?”

“Never you lot mind,” Dodger motioned for Sarah to sit beside him at the table. “Sarah’s in need of lodgings for a while.”

“So long as she don’t mind sharin’ your bed,” Charley laughed.

“I don’t think I’ll be staying—“

“You stay, darling,” the older girl came to Sarah’s side. “The world is dangerous for a girl like you.”

“Sarah, this is Nancy,” Dodger smiled up at the older girl.

“I had a friend named Nancy. We were in the same reader at school,” said Sarah brightly. It then occurred to her that nobody in that room had likely seen the inside of a school house. These were all street children. Homeless. Orphans and run-aways. It then occurred to her though she had an education, she was now just like them.

“School?” the old man made his way over to Sarah. “Learned your letters have you?”

“Yes sir.”

“And how about figures?”

“Those as well, sir,” Sarah said quickly. She didn’t like how the old man’s eyes stayed on her.

“Clever one, are you?”

“She’s alright, Fagin. She in’t going to peach on us, you ‘ave me word,” Dodger gripped Sarah’s hand under the table.

“Alright, Alright,” the man named Fagin kept his eyes fixated on Sarah. “You had me worried there Dodger, bringing a posh girl in here without me knowing.”

“You were with Bill. She needed lodgings.”

“I can bake!” Sarah exclaimed. “And I can do mending and write. I’ll earn my keep, sir.”

“There in’t no need for that, darling,” Nancy said smoothly. “You stay ‘ere and stay safe.”

Sarah smiled as Nancy handed her a plate of food. Nancy, Sarah noticed, was a kindly soul. When Sarah made to clean the dishes away, Nancy heard nothing of it and insisted she rest.

“You tired?” Dodger asked Sarah as the boys crowded around a card game.

“Only a little,” Sarah lied, stifling a yawn.

“Come with me.” Dodger waited till the boys and Fagin were pre-occupied and lead Sarah back to the loft. He took hold of the quilt on his bed and opened the window.

“What are you doing?” Sarah watched as Dodger crawled out the window and held his hand out to her.

“Come and see for yourself Miss Sarah. Don’t worry, I got you,” Dodger chuckled at Sarah’s hesitance. She took his hand cautiously and followed him onto a fire exit. He turned his back to her for a split second and made his way up a small ladder leading to the roof. Once he was up, he held out his hands to her. “Look at me,” Dodger noticed Sarah’s fear. “You in’t going to fall. Take my hands and up we go.”

Sarah gasped as Dodger hoisted her up the ladder and helped her sit beside him.

“Thank you,” Sarah curled herself into the quilt Dodger wrapped around them. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“It’s nothing, Sarah.”

Sarah smiled as she looked out at the scene. From where they sat, they could see practically all of London.

“This is remarkable,” Sarah breathed.

“It’s alright, innit?” Dodger cast a sideways glance at Sarah.

“I’ve never known anything like this before.”

Dodger noticed how wide Sarah’s eyes were taking everything in. “Not from a city then are ye?”

“No,” Sarah said quietly. “My mother, she was born in Dublin. She went to America with her family long before I was born. She met my father in America. He’s a farmer. There was one town six miles from where we lived. Two hundred people lived there and the school house only had fifteen children. I was one of the oldest.” Sarah stopped speaking as the memories flooded back.

“You miss it,” Dodger said quietly. “It must be so different from here.”

“It is,” Sarah watched as a police wagon rushed down a street. “I miss some of my friends. And my ma. But I’ve made new friends now.”

“I’ve never… been good at friends,” Dodger tried to find the right words.

“Neither have I.”

“Well,” Dodger propped himself up on one elbow so he could look down at Sarah. “We could start with gettin’ to know each other.”

“Alright.”

“What’s your favourite colour?” Dodger asked simply.

“Blue,” Sarah answered. “What’s yours?”

“Black.”

“If you could have a plateful of one food, what would it be?”

Dodger chuckled at this. “Sausages I suppose. And pudding. Once Nancy bought me chocolate pudding for my thirteenth birthday.”

“I’ve never had pudding before,” said Sarah. “I’d have a plateful of my Ma’s roast turkey. The kind she used to make at Christmas.”

There was a kind of heavy silence. Dodger took a deep breath before speaking again. “You miss them, don’t you? Your family.”

“Sometimes,” Sarah replied quietly. “I miss my sisters. And my Ma. My Pa… it’s hard to miss him.”

Dodger frowned at this. “He’s the reason for your leaving, in’t he?”

Sarah took in a quivering breath. She felt Dodger’s arm wrap around her shoulders and for a moment, she thought of her Ma and propriety, but his warmth and generosity prompted her to lean into his embrace ever so slightly. “Yes,” she whispered her reply. “My Ma bought us tickets. She said she’d come for us right after she earns herself some money. My older sister, Jane, she fell ill on the boat. Died before we reached the shores.”

“Sarah…” Dodger gave her small frame a slight squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Sarah took in another shaky breath. “I haven’t given up yet. My little sister, Abby, they put her in the workhouse.”

“Which one?”

“Durnhill,” Sarah felt Dodger tense at this. “What is it?”

“That,” Dodger closed his eyes tightly for a second. “I was born there.”

“What, in the workhouse?”

“Yeah,” Dodger grimaced. “My mother had me there. She wasn’t older than sixteen when she had me.”

“Do you remember her?” Sarah asked. Instantly she regretted it. “I am sorry,” she looked up at the boy. “I shouldn’t pry.”

“You’re not,” Dodger said. “I in’t never told anyone this, Sarah.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I want to,” Dodger smiled weakly. “I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” Sarah said.

Dodger looked into Sarah’s eyes. Even in the darkness, he could see how wonderfully blue they were. “I don’t remember much of my mother. She died when I was three. I only things I have of hers are my name and a book that she gave me. It was hers once. That’s how I know her name…Lucy.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Sarah said. “If I were to have a family one day, I’d quite like to name my daughter Lucy.”

Dodger smiled at this. “Right, well, we all done asking each other questions then?”

“I do have one last question,” Sarah replied.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your real name?”

“Oh no,” Dodger stared out at the city. “You in’t gettin’ that kind of information.”

“You know my name.”

“You in’t got as many demons as I do.”

“Okay,” Sarah sighed and followed Dodger’s gaze out at the city. “It is lovely up here.”

“It is,” Dodger smiled weakly. “I in’t much, but it’s don’t seem so bad from up ‘ere.”

“I think it’s beautiful. It’s your home.”

“Nobody ever comes up ‘ere. I wanted to show you this,” Dodger cast a glance over at Sarah.

“So that’s why you brought me up here? I thought you had less than innocent intentions at first.”

Dodger blushed at this and was eternally grateful for the dark night’s sky. “Trust me, Sarah, I don’t have any _intentions_ with you. Besides, pretty thing like yourself, bet you ‘ad a fella back home.”

“Hardly,” said Sarah.

“I knew that. You’re as innocent as the virgin Mary ‘erself.”

Sarah gasped at this. “And how would you know?”

“Oh please, I bet in’t never been kissed before, ‘ave yer?” Dodger smirked.

“Of all the things to say!”

“You in’t foolin’ me, Sarah. I know an innocent girl when I see one, and you’re as pure as pure can be.”

“I hardly think this is a suitable subject for—“

“Prove me wrong, then,” Dodge interrupted with a chuckle. “Look at me and tell me you’ve kissed a boy before.”

Sarah gulped and shifted her weight to her side so she could look at Dodger. She wouldn’t let him have he upper hand. She had to stand her ground. Let him know that she couldn’t be trifled with. That she was strong. “Fine then,” she said weakly. Slowly she leaned in closer to Dodger. It wasn’t until her lips were millimetres away from his own, that she felt her courage wavering. She paused, feeling his breath on her face, and opened her eyes. “You’re right,” her voice shook. “I’ve been a fool.”

Dodger grinned at this. “Hardly,” he murmured. “Sarah?”

“Yes?”

“I’d quite like to kiss you, if you’ll allow it.”

“I’d—“ Sarah flushed and fiddled with the bow tying her braid together. “I wouldn’t object.”

“Right then,” Dodger pressed a light hand to her face and smiled at the warmth he felt there. Slowly he closed the distance between them. It was short; a slight brush of the lips and then a slight pressing, but it made Dodger feel like the king of the world. This girl, this impossible stubborn and beautiful girl, had captured his heart in less than twenty four hours. Sarah sighed against his lips and didn’t even noticed when her hands went to grasp the collar of his jacket.

Dodger pulled back slowly and smiled.

“Was that alright?” Sarah whispered.

“Alright?” Dodger chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind Sarah’s ear. “That was wonderful.”

“MmmHmm,” Sarah hummed, looking up at the boy.

“That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sarah replied softly.

“And? Was it quit satisfactory?”

Sarah couldn’t help but giggle at Dodger’s choice of words. “It was.”

He could sense hesitation. Something about her slightly fallen expression made him uneasy. “Alright there, love?”

“Dodge how—“ Sarah paused to think of the right words. “You’ve brought other girls up here before, haven’t you?”

Dodger’s eyes widened at this. “No.”

“So you’ve never kissed a girl?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dodger looked at Sarah. “I’ve just never shown them this before.”

“Why not?” Sarah asked.

“Well,” Dodger paused to take hold of Sarah’s hand. “This is my place. The place I go when I want to be alone. It’s…special. And there’s something about you Sarah Brown, that is special.”

Sarah didn’t say anything for a moment. Too stunned by Dodger’s thumb rubbing soothing circles of the top of her hand. She liked it. “I’d quite like to stay here, Dodger. With you.”

Dodger’s face broke into a boyish grin. “Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’d like you to stay here too, Sarah Brown,” Dodger raised Sarah’s hand and pressed a light kiss to it. “It’s Jack.”

“What?” Sarah looked at the boy.

“My name,” Dodger continued to smile. “Jack Dawkins.”

“Jack,” Sarah said the name slowly. “I quite like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading y'all! xoxo


End file.
